Veela Blood
by tiggerjojo
Summary: Finished! HarryDraco Slash. Warning explicit content. Harry is captured and given a deadly, illegal potion that infuses his DNA with veela DNA, permanently. His search for a mate leads him to Draco whom he marks and takes as his mate for life.
1. The Opening Preface

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Veela Blood 

WARNING! This short fic contains characters who are not mine, Harry and Draco, involved in highly detailed sexual activities. You have been warned! By the way, this thing is sort of, probably the closest you'll get to a sex scene in Darkness, but it has a completely independently driven story line. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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1. The Opening Preface

His touch sends fire down my spine and ice through my veins. His words pour honey and give soft promises. I can smell him and feel his fingertips climbing gently over the very surface of my clothes barely even touching but leaving more there than anyone had. Those before had never enticed me in this way, they had no barriers when they touched, caressed, licked, kissed and countless other things but even through orgasms I had never been pleasured like this. 

I felt a primal need that dissolved all prejudices, everything. I had been warned about this before but it didn't matter any more. If only he would touch me again. I want him, I need him. I moan for his touch and beg. He doesn't even pause, he doesn't smirk or laugh either, he just continues to touch me. He comes closer and breaths softly on my neck. He whispers to me, he asks me if I am willing. He asks if he can take me. I can barely breath but somehow I manage to force a whisper from my throat, yes. 

His hands draw away for a moment and then he gently touches my cheek. My passions are renewed and I find myself distracted and tormented by his hands as they trace invisible shapes along my cheek, as he hovers so close to me and so far away. He smiles slightly, a gentle, beautiful smile. His lips brush mine and I moan softly. I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. 

His tongue flickers out and gently traces the edges of my lips. My breathing becomes deeper but dangerously erratic. He whispers soothingly to me and lets his fingers travel down my neck and through my hair. I feel as if I am stuck in a dream like state. His fingers send shock waves down my through every nerve of my body. He laughs lightly and for some reason it reassures me. 

He gently tilts my chin and kisses me again. Deeply, gently, softly, passionately. I feel as if I could die right there and then his mouth looses grip and his kisses fall down. Trailing my chin and neck, his hands gently begin to work at my buttons, his tongue gently follows back up my neck and along my jaw line. A sudden delicate lick upon my earlobe makes my knees weak, he begins, he licks and kisses, nibbles and sucks. I cry out involuntarily and gasp softly. I feel the wind take to my skin greedily as my shirt falls away. 

His hands cup my face once more and draw me into a deep kiss, his tongue presses in and hungrily explores my mouth. I can't find myself any longer, I am lost to him. I feel myself lose the fight with gravity. He catches me and gently lowers me to the ground. He holds himself above me, one hand above my head, his knees gently holding to my thighs. His free hand gently pulls through my hair, brushing it away from my eyes. Two fingers lightly trace my cheek bone and slip down to my lips. He kisses me again. His lips are soft, moist, taste of sweet and vanilla, addictive.

Warm, fluid, gentle, graceful. He tenderly touches me, dragging a single finger upon my chest, over my arms, below my navel. It hardly makes contact with my skin at all but produces a feeling of a hundred fold, fire and ice. Burning, fresh, pure, explosive. His mouth devours my own while his hands hungrily explore my upper torso. His mouth releases me and I cry out. Then I feel him again, his tongue slowly devouring me. 

I'm burning for him, every moment is pure torture and insane bliss. I beg him once more to release me and he pauses for a moment, looks up at me, he smiles lightly and comes up to kiss me. He pulls away and whispers to me, "Wait, love, be patient for me, I want this to last forever." I can't speak, his eyes filled with something I can't comprehend nor fathom. 

He pulls away and sits up, a moment of insane fear fills me but he is still smiling so gently. He carelessly pulls off his shirt and tosses it away, exposing his chest. Soft, smooth, I hunger to know if it also taste of vanilla. I want to taste him, touch him. I reach up and pull him back down to me, I let me hands free and they seem to find a life of their own. His hair, his face, his chest. Just as I had imagined, he laughs at me lightly and kisses me once more. His face is so beautiful and carefree, if I could keep this moment forever.

He tells me not to be afraid and to have him in any way I want, but I cannot. I wrap my arms around him and pull him strait upon me so that his very essence is blended in mine and I can feel him and his weight completely atop me. He is pressed against me, hard against me and I him. I can't summon anything to speak but kiss him gently and try to taste him again. 

I feel my fingers slip down from around his back to hold his sides. "I am yours," I mummer into his mouth, "take me," I beg him. I feel foolish, perhaps I am but dreaming, perhaps he has just been playing me but…his eyes. His seem so full of emotions, perhaps too many to comprehend but for some reason he seems sad. "Please," I say to him. He say nothing but takes his weight off of me. 

His free hand follows down my side to the edge of my pants, following them into the button. I gasp and he takes advantage of my open mouth, he seems to swallow me, hungrier than even before. My passions are burning within me a hundred fold and I want to die or as to do anything to please him, to make him continue. I need, want, have. 

The button on my pants a mocking joke, they offer no resistance to him. His hands seem to take on a life of their own teasing at pants, tugging on my boxers, allowing his fingers to tease their way inside and ensnare themselves within my pubic hair. I growl in frustration and he laughs at me, kissing me, continuing to torture me. My own hands in their avid frustration find themselves at his waist, hands be fools, I can't stop shaking and so I am bound still away from him. 

He has noticed, I feel a light blush invade my cheeks, he smiles warmly, his eyes silently laughing. He intertwines his fingers in my own and guides me, carefully, slowly, agonizingly slow. He claims my lips again and gently pushes away the rest of cloth barrier that kept me from him. He lets the kiss go and rises slightly, our lips still touching, our noses side by side. We are completely open to each other and from somewhere a cruel wind pulls along our naked flesh and send fierce shivers along our spines.

"Keep me warm," I murmur. He nods and shifts his position lowering his body atop mine, alining our flesh, pressing our stiff heat together. I moan softly and find it mixed with his. A tremor runs through his body. Are you sure, he asks. I feel a moment of indecision but not matter how I look at it, I want this. To stop now would be ludicrous. Yes, I tell him. I tell him to take me, I tell him that I want him inside me. 

He blushes and kisses me so gently and passionately it feels as if my world is dissolving. He touches me gently, letting his fingers roam and caress my hard tortured flesh. I moan and feel all my muscles contract. I beg him to continue, to touch me to envelope me. He tells me that he doesn't want hurt me. I cry out for him, as his fingers touch a sensitive spot. I beg him again. I tell him that this torture is more painful than anything. I ask him again, this time he nods slightly and hesitantly kisses me. 

My legs fall open to him and although his practiced touches are now nervous and awkward he positions himself above me. He is so careful but even as he enters me and I am filled with the intense sensations of both pain and pleasure, I am struck by the fact that he has never done this before, never gone this far. 

He moves within me and I cry out and gasp. With every thrust I am filled a hundred feelings, a hundred emotions. A completement of myself. His eye are filled of care and worry. I smile unsteadily to him clumsily pull him down to me, taking his lips to mine. Still vanilla. He whispers things to me, beautiful, sweet thing that I can't understand even to the depth of my heart. He acts like a worshiper of a god but he is the god and I do not understand why he would look to worship a simple mortal like me. I would give the world for him. 

His pace becomes more harsh, the pain overwhelms the pleasure in an erotic, addictive, beautiful mixture. My voice is raw from crying out, screaming his name. His own throat is also filled and he calls out to me. A sudden deep thrust and he stops, a warmth explodes within me and am filled with such utter bliss in unity with him that I wish the world would end, so that I could die in this perfect moment. 

He's shaking and his breathing is ragged and uneven, he gently pulls himself from me and slowly crawls backwards. I tell him he doesn't have to but he takes me anyway. His tongue gently pulls at my tight throbbing member. I gasp and moan as he takes and envelops me, the world looses color, it fades away and I am lost in an unfathomable sea of pleasure. I explode. 

Light and color returns, I can hardly breath. He is next to me now, his eyes locked into mine. He reaches over and brushes a few strand of hair away from my eyes. I feel a smile creep upon my face and his face mirrors it. He sighs and leans forward to kiss me. I take his mouth and try to memorize it, to keep forever. It seems impossible that I would be able to keep this Eden.

His fingers slowly trace along the very edge of my lips, his eyes mist over and tear escapes the corner of his eye and falls to the ground. I ask his what is the matter, but he just shakes his head and wipes his eyes. His mouth clings to mine for an eternal moment and then he moves down, a presses a gentle kiss to my neck that burns like acidic fire. I tense slightly but I had been expecting it, I wanted it. I am so happy. He licks burning mark gently until it no longer burns.

I reach forward and gently touch his cheek and softly whisper into his ear, "I think…I love you…Harry." 


	2. The Introdution

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Veela Blood

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2. The Introduction

We lay there sweating and panting, wrapped in each other, clothing strewn across the floor. He smelled delicious, he tasted delicious. I leaned forward and kissed him again. I would kiss him a million times if I could. He touches my neck, his thumb caressing the kiss shaped burn mark he had imprinted into my skin. He had claimed me, I'm not sure how but he did. 

I'm more than half veela, my father was half my mother full and it had passed over to me but hadn't begun to show until I went through puberty which, unfortunately, a veela's puberty happens even later in life than normal male teenagers does so I hadn't even begun until the end of last year my sixth year. If I hadn't such a reputation as a complete asshole I would have been teased mercilessly. 

Similar to werewolves in the respect that veela's choose mates and have only one mate which they stay with for the rest of their lives. The difference being that with werewolves the male is always dominate, with veela, females aren't always the submissive ones. Unluckily, I began showing signs of developing into a submissive veela, the weaker more docile veela. 

My father told me, warned me, never to go too near to another veela. For if another, dominate veela, caught my scent and decided to make me their mate I would not be able to resist or deign their sent. Male or female. If a submissive veela is mated by a dominate veela they can still escape and possibly marry a normal human but if they are marked then there is no going escape, then you belong to that other veela. Mated for life 

A mark, a dominate can only place it once in a lifetime, an acid secreted onto the lips, a kiss placed somewhere, usually in a place where it can be seen by other veela's, the acid is neutralized by salvia, a lick after the acid is scared into the skin. I was marked, but it shouldn't have been possible. Harry wasn't a veela by birth, I knew that. So why did he smell like, taste like, act like, claim me as a veela would?

He has changed, he looks like a veela. He is beautiful. His hair now hangs long, past his shoulders, softer than the finest silk. Black as midnight and was streaked with silver, the color of pure blood veela hair. His face has thinned out, elegant. His skin is paler, as most veela's are and his already stunning emerald eyes have narrowed into an beautiful almond shape usually attributed to the god like beauty of the elves who's true ancestry had died out long ago. His voice has changed too, deep with the essence that reminded you of sweet, rich honey when he speaks to you. He has also gained the veela's inherited grace and fluidity. He is still tall and filled out from hours of quiditch practice, uncharacteristic in the small, fragile race of the veela, he is a god.

"How," I ask him, "How did this happen?"

He smiles at me and looks out the window. "We have time," he says, "so I will tell you, a most wondrous story." He wraps his arms around me and pulls me aline with his body, his mouth touches mine and turns aside. He whispers in my ear, he tells me his story.

He tells about the summer, the first week back. "I left for walk," he says, "to get way from my relatives. I went not far but was abducted by chance, by some wizards running in an illegal black market ring. I remember," he muses, "that I was bound, gagged and blindfolded, taken to a place in the city, the slums of the city. Those who abducted me, knew not who I was but that didn't matter to them. They dealt to muggles in a high profit market for pornography and because they were wizards it mattered not whom they took because magic and potions can make anyone look good for a time. That was what they had planned to do to me but a problem arose. 

"The group had obtained a new potions mixer, he was supposedly good, could have been a master of potions and it was true he was good, very good. The problem arose with his instability mentally. He was supposed to make a simple potion that would give the drinker the appearance of a veela for a number of hours, an illusionary potion, but instead he made another potion, a powerful, complicated, illegal potion. A potion rated in the dark arts, that actually force combines the veela genealogy and DNA into the person, permanent and extremely painful. Most die in the process.

"They got angry with the potions master and killed him. By that time the potion they had given me was kicking in and they thought because of the potions previous failures that I was going to die so they dumped both me and the dead professor. I wasn't sure how I did it," he laughed, "but somehow I managed to return to private drive and when I arrived I found that the Dursleys had been killed and the Ministry was already waiting for me."

He says, "I told them that I had just gone out on a walk, which was partially true, and they all said it was a miracle because Voldemort had come that day and killed all the Dursleys and decimated the house. This was somewhat shocking but only to the point if know that my owl and belongs were all right and they were which was a relief." he laughs lightly. 

"Dumbledore arrived shortly after and had me sent by portakey to a muggle orphanage where Dumbledore figured I would be safe. The orphanage had been given another name for which I was to be called and false backrounds but Dumbledore had assured me that it was just temporary, just for the summer. That was all well and good but right away it occurred to me that Dumbledore didn't know very much about the orphanage.

"Certainly from the outside it held all appearances of an orphanage and even as you first entered but it was much, much more than an orphanage. Like a normal orphanage you could come in and buy children, for a certain amount of time. The entire facility was an illegal, underage, prostitution house but as far as that goes it was a good one," he says jokingly, "because while you are there they teach you, so that when you are legally old enough you can leave and make a living but, it had a price to pay." his tone was grave.

He said that, "At that point the potion had most likely fully fussed with my DNA, become a part of me and that by that time the pain had begun to fade. In the following weeks I became aware that my body was changing, to become as it is now and that I learned more than I ever thought possible, more than I never wanted.

"They taught me first hand how to pleasure a person, male or female. I learned how to drive a person insane with just the touch of my fingers and how to pleasure a person to an orgasm without ever going below the belt but, that was also with the help of the veela touch." 

He didn't know at the time but the veela touch is something also inherited. It is the veela's greatest weapon because it can bring anyone to their knees, begging. It's the irresistible draw that makes people throw themselves off buildings to try and get to the veela. In actuality it's extremely rare in males, usually only females have it, to try and attract anything, friends, enemies, lunch. That Harry was given this gift, through forced veela stimulation, it seemed unreal.

He said, "I never went all the way, never had sex. Anything I learned below the belt was done by observataion."

"They let you watch them?" I asked. 

"You'd be surprised, what get some people off." 

He continued on, "Within a month I became good enough to market although I refused to do anything below the belt or be touched in that way. The owner was skeptical but allowed me one customer, one of the ones know as one-timers, people that probably wouldn't come back. I remember," he says, "that it was a young wife, stubborn and angry with her husband. At first I was unsure, as was she but…she came back, again and again and she only asked for me. 

"I gained a reputation and a name," he laughs, "they called me Green eyes, rather unoriginal but it was considered an honor in that place, to be given a nickname. I was asked for by that name. I suppose," he mummers, tightening his grip around me slightly, "that the only reason I was so popular was because no matter what happened between me and anyone who came to see me, no one ever left feeling guilty, I mean how could they, we never did anything, some I didn't even have to go below the neck line. 

"The owner didn't want me to leave, when the car came to take me to Diagon ally, the week before school started, he begged them not to take me, offered them ridiculous amounts of money but I suppose it wasn't even close to the amount I made him. By the last month I was seeing seven to eight people a day at premium rates. Stupid," he says, "I shouldn't be talking about that, too many horrible coincidences on top of another but to be honest it didn't turn out too bad."

"How can you say that?" I whisper horrified.

"Easy," he breathes on my ear, "I got you." He licks my earlobe and nibbles it gently, obviously enjoying the reaction he gets from me. "I remember," he whispers, "when I first caught your scent, outside the train station, I knew I had to have you. I do have you, I'll never let you go."

He tracked me down. I wasn't even aware of him, why should I have been? He was Potter, a normal human. I remember too, Harry, I remember how you tricked me into this cabin and locked the door. How you soothed and tamed me like a wild animal. 

I was frightened then, I remember catching your scent as you locked the door, recognizing it as a dominates, I panicked. I was afraid, everything I knew about dominates, everything I had read, everything bruised and beaten mark left on my mother, had told me that dominates were cruel and cared only for their own pleasure but you were so kind Harry. 

"I won't let you go," I murmur, "you marked me and now I'm yours Harry, lover, mate, master."

"What about…" he asks, pausing, "your father, and your ties to the dark arts? Your friends in slytherin and Snape?"

I gently rub my cheek against him. "It doesn't matter anymore," I say, "I am yours. All my past ties and connections are gone. Your friends are my friends, your loyalties my loyalties. I don't want my father, I don't want to remember my loyalties. I have wanted this for a long time. I never wanted to be what my father wanted me to be. Harry you **are**, in everyway, my master and my god. I worship you, I praise you I openly and completely love you."


	3. Prologue

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3. Prologue

I said it again, I told him that I loved him. Am I lying? I don't know. I know that I have wanted this, but I don't know why. I know this is my escape, but from what? I can never leave Harry and for some reason, that doesn't bother me. Why? I am content and happy. I feel more elated than I have ever been before in my life. Shouldn't I be angry or sad? But there is one emotion I feel. Guilt.

I feel guilty. I feel like I am betraying him. I know that I am lying. I know I **am** betraying him. How is it possible to fall in love with someone that I have hated for the entirety of my life? The worst thing I have ever experienced in my life is guilt. Before this happened, I used to push it away until I no longer felt guilt for any of my actions. Then that emotion was replaced by anger and it was then that I realized I was becoming my father, the person I hated most in this world.

Harry is my escape, my way out. I know that here with him I am safe from my father, he cannot force me to choose between him and my mate because he know that I have to choose my mate. I am afraid though, veela's only have one mate throughout their entire lifespan, and I know my fathers cruelty but would he? Would he, if he could, kill my mate? 

He would, I know he would, and then he would make me to become a deatheater like I was supposed to this year on the eve of my eighteenth. Then he would force me to marry, my fiancé, an arranged marriage from birth, that thing Pansy. I would be forced to mate with her and produce offspring to carry on the Malfoy line. To honor the family. That would be worse than death. I have to protect Harry from him.

I look up into Harry's eyes, so clear and perfect but it wasn't until I was up this close to him that I realize how reflective of his emotions they are and how beautiful. How they shimmer like emeralds and change colors with his emotions. Right now, they are the deepest green in the first of autumn when the falling orange and red leaves settle upon the grass and set it off with startling contrast, like ships upon broken waves. That color right before the true eve of fall and the true eve of death gifted of the cold.

He searches my eyes and I feel a blush rise in my cheeks with an embarrassment I have never experienced before. No one has, ever, looked at me that way. He cares, that is why. No one has ever cared about me unless it was to care about the money my father had to pay them, like my 'friends'. 

His fingers gently trace my cheekbone, his eyes still locked to mine, no smile on his face but no frown either. The floor beneath us trembles as the train applies its breaks and begins to slow. He stands up carefully helping me to my feet. We change into our school robes as outside the world halts and the eager students hurry to the carriages and boats. 

I notice a silver gleam out of the corner of my eye, coming from Harry's robes. A badge, the badge of the head boy. Harry was head boy but would they let his stay once they knew about me? He sees my gaze and gently places a hand upon the badge, covering it. You must be proud? I ask. He snorts softly, a sarcastic grin creeping onto his face. No, he murmurs, I actually sent several owls asking them to pick someone else but Dumbledore is convinced that I would be the perfect head boy. He nose twitches slightly as he looks out the window. Hagrid calling all the first year over to the boats, so many.

There have been more and more first years ever since Voldemort returned. Everyone thinks that they are preparing for the upcoming confrontation, their poor excuse for a war, by gathering as many with even the slightest magical abilities to train them. What they can't seem to grasp is the fact that it is simply too late and that bringing more young students into the schools will only result in more to protect and more to die. 

We step off the train and I feel a hand slip into my own, warm comforting. He gently pulls me along finding us a carriage at the end of the line that is empty. As soon as the door shuts the carriages rumble ahead, probably only waiting for the last two students to climb in. Harry smiles at me and return his smile. For some reason I feel as if I am part of some great hidden scheme to fool the world. A great joke but…the only one I am fooling is myself, and Harry.

I sit beside him leaning my head against his shoulder, tangling my fingers through his hair. He takes my hand up and kisses it sweetly as he is the prince charming just met the lovely princess. He makes me feel like a princess. He says it with his eyes, that's all I need.

The carriage slows to a stop and again we wait while the others go on ahead. Harry looks at me, questioning me. His eyes ask me if I'm ready, if I can do this. He is asking me if I am ready to throw away all of my heritage, my life, my allies, my enemies…all for him? 

I say not a word but slowly draw my wand. His eyes are confused. I smile. Everything will be fine. I turn the wand, aim it at my chest and whisper a spell. A jet of magic shoots out and envelops the Slytherin coat of arms upon my robes leaving nothing but a plain black robe upon me. I will no longer be a Slytherin, I say as I carefully remove the green and silver tie and let it drop to the ground.

His smile returns and he gestures me to follow him. We walk side by side to the front doors. I stop before them, a moment of hesitation. Harry turns to look at me. I pause for a moment then walk up to him and wrap my arms around his neck, placing my head on his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his hair. His arms wrap themselves around my waist and he holds me close to him, turning his head to plant a kiss upon the top of my head and then upon my lips. 

"I'm ready," I somehow manage to whisper without my voice trembling at all.

Our steps seem to echo infinitely through the stone hallway, a hundred times louder than they really were. We stop before the grand doors that hold our entrance, slightly open, allowing one to see through as the sorting ceremony is completed. Dumbledore begins his speech and as he looks around he spots Harry in the door way, but not me a step behind and embroiled in the shadows. He calls to Harry asks him to step out, he introduces Harry as Head Boy but all know him as the Golden Wonder Boy, The Boy Who Lived.

Harry's face, for just an instant, contorts into an mask of dislike, disgust and hatred but almost as soon as it is seen it disappears and it replaced with that face that is so well know to me, calm, happy, peaceful…innocent. He holds so much below the surface, hidden.

He looks back at me and gently clasps my hand he looks happy but his eyes are desperate. He doesn't want to go out there. He wants to run away just as much as I do, but he can't now they are waiting for him. I could, I could run away and go to my dorm and never look back but I can't. Because Harry is going I am going, he is my mate and I am loyal to Harry. It is something written in my being now, there is no point in fighting it. This is something to embrace. To fight it will only make it harder. 

I take his one hand holding mine between both of my hands and squeeze it reassuringly. He smiles and his eyes become clearer. He steps forward and I follow behind him. 


	4. Foreword

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4. Foreword

For a moment, right before we enter, I hesitate, holding Harry back. He looks at me, I know before I was willing but now, at the true moment of decision I can't help but face the fact that if I do this, I will not only destroy myself, I will destroy Harry too. Before I wouldn't care but now, this is different. I feel conflicting emotions that I didn't even know existed before. 

I feels as if I am fighting a loosing battle. I want to step out and defy all I stand for but it seems so easy just to hold back to hide. Wait, did I just think that? To hide? I won't hide. I will face my fears and I won't be alone, my mate. Harry will be with me, we will suffer it out together.

I squeeze his hand and nod, my other hand gently pushes him forward. His smile appears and this time it feels genuine. He steps out and the room applauds, of course he's the new head boy, someone to admire and look up to. Not mention the fact that he's absolutely bloody gorgeous. Several girls faint, and all around those of the women kind are blushing, whispering and giggling. Harry's grip tightens, he is not happy. He must hate it, all the attention and expectation, now there is one more thing they have to worship him for. 

Then he walks out and I am momentarily blinded by the light change from dark and gloomy to bright and disgustingly cheery. The hall slowly goes silent. I can almost hear what they're thinking, Harry Potter is with Draco Malfoy and no sign of bloodshed? Or even better yet, They're holding hands. 

I glance around and carefully look over to those I know, not necessarily friends, actually none of the people I know are friends. Just enemies and bribed allies. Pansy has fainted and Crabbe and Goyle look as confused as normal. Blaise looks absolutely pissed but he's not the only one, most of the Slytherin table either looks confused or angry. The Gryffindor table, only look pissed. They all hate me. This may be more difficult then I first perceived.

Harry walks forward to the center of the room all eyes watch us. Dumbledore has a look of mild confusion mixed with his normal good-natured, cheerfulness. Once in the middle and in front of everyone's eyes he lets go of my hand and bows. It's an absolutely perfect bow, one that would make a king weep in shame. His hand gracefully came up and out, he bends at just perfect, textbook angle, his hair flipping over his shoulder. Another handful of females periodically faint.

He then turns to address Dumbledore, "Sir," he says, "may those of different houses dine together at one of tables?"

Dumbledore blinks and adjusts his spectacles, "You and Mr. Malfoy have a bet is it? Well if you must know, there is nothing in the school rules that says you can't but then again there is nothing saying that you can."

Smart ass old man, he figures that by answering the question to both ideas that he can appease our 'bet', clever. Unnecessary but clever. A quick look around shows that everyone has taken Dumbledore's assumption as fact. They look relieved, I don't know how long that will last but then again I have no idea what Harry is planning. Dumbledore has given him the perfect out. Will he take it?

"Looks like I won the bet Malfoy," Harry says a tad over loudly, his eyes are shining with a laughter that seems to mimic Dumbledore's. I scowl not necessarily at Harry, more at his horrible acting. He turns around and grabs my arm, half dragging me to his table. The hall instantly fills with chatter and gossip. I pick up bits as I am dragged, such as, how beautiful the two of us are, ideas about what kind of bet and how it was possible to win with the answer given and the last snatch of conversation I managed to grasp before we reached the Gryffindor table was a group of girls discussing what a cute couple we would make. They didn't know the half of it but they were pretty damn close. 

We stopped on the far side of the Gryffindor table, with our backs to the wall and Weasley and Granger across. People slid over quickly to make room for us, they seemed to treat us like a disease or me like a disease and Harry like the contaminated. I slipped into the bench after Harry and was met by the stares of immense dislike by everyone around me and some sort of primal satisfaction. 

Granger leaned forward, an eager, malicious glint in her eye. Damn, who knew she could be so freaken scary. Life isn't going to be easy. I have to remember that these are my mate's friends, I must respect them as my mate does. This is going to take a lot of work and concentration. I haven't been nice to these two since we met.

"Harry," Granger whispered, "what happened? What kind of bet did you guys have? What did you get since you won?"

"Yeah!" Weasley said a little overenthusiastically, "Does this mean that Malfoy is like you slave for a week? Because I have this really nasty pair of sweat socks and they need to be washed, hand washed."  
"No," said Harry, "he's not my slave for a week, he's my slave for life. I get to keep him, forever." 

Granger and Weasley laughed, I would too if I had been in their position. 

"You're joking," Granger gasped. 

"Dude that is so funny," Weasley snorted, but who really would want Malfoy for that long?

I feel my heart contract for some reason. Perhaps I really don't matter. I feel my cheeks flush and my head falls down to look in my lap. I'm ashamed for something I have never been for before. Maybe it's because from this point forward, besides my mate's opinion on me his friends are the next most important. Or…because it hurts to know that no one really would ever want me except to hurt and punish me. 

But that's my own fault isn't it? If I hadn't been such a bastard to begin with. Why did Harry want me then? What does he see in me? Or did he only pick me because of my scent? He's probably never even caught scent of another submissive veela, he just picked the first one he came across. Am I just convenient or just sport? To see if he could get me? If that's it then what do I have in life to look for? Nothing, it's just like Harry said, I'm his slave for life.

I feel a hand under my chin, gently tipping my head back up. I suddenly realize that I am crying. I have never cried before, I feel heat swell my face and I yank my chin away from him and look away. I ignore the looks those around me are giving. I try not to think about anything, to clear my mind like I would before, to hide my vulnerability with anger and sarcasm. I can't.

A warmth on my cheek, I turn back to see Harry's worried eyes. He cares I remember, as he gently pushes back my hair and, and he kisses my tears away. Right there in front of all his friends and comrades. He won't hide me, he won't treat me like a broken toy. He every action seems filled with an adoration and almost worship that I can't comprehend. 

"My mate," the words slip out of my mouth without me even noticing but they're so soft that only Harry and his two friends hear me. Their expressions seem to be fixed in a permeate state of shock. I scoot over slightly, to be as close to Harry as possible, and lean against him, placing my head on his shoulder. He seems to relax but he's the only one. All around more and more eyes are turning to look at us. Harry's bluff was only a minute distraction, he knew that.

Under the table I feel his hand clasp and squeeze mine. He begins eating, some how managing to eat with his left hand only, as his right remains linked with mine. I try to eat but I never ate much before, to begin with. I was always accused of being a picky eater but to be honest I just never had it in me to eat. It just never appeals to me, if I didn't have to eat to continue living I wouldn't.

Weasley and Granger slowly snap out of it, shaking their heads, Weasley even pinches himself. Then he looks at my mate and I, eyes skimming back and forth between us. Hermione blinks and her eyes cloud for several seconds in thought. 

"What the bloody hell?" Weasley mutters. Right after which, Hermione mutters what sounds like, "I don't understand…"

Out of the two Hermione is the most intelligent and level headed. I think under the current circumstances the half truth would serve well. I reach up and pull my hair back away from my face, flipping it behind my back. Then pulling down the collar around this dreaded school uniform to expose the mark my mate had given me.

Hermione's eyes instantly lock onto it and after a minute or maybe more, recognition springs into her eyes. 

"I get it!," She exclaims softly. 

"Get what?" A dazed Ron asks.

"Malfoy," she starts in a matter-of-factly tone, "has a veela genes right? So look at his neck." 

Ron looks confused and agitated, "So?" He mutters.

"So!?" Hermione practically shouts, "that's the mark of a claimed submissive veela! I read about it over the summer. Veelas have only one mate through their entire life span and once a veela is marked and mated then that veela will never leave the other! But if that's true, and the only one I've seen Malfoy with is…"

"Ewww!" Ron gagged, "what do you mean they have to mate? Harry doesn't even have veela genes! That's disgusting Hermione, you've got to be wrong. Even if Harry was part veela he would never pick Malfoy."

"I guess your right." Hermione sighed.

I felt horrible, like I would throw up any second. I never thought anyone could be more heartlessly cruel than me but Weasley and Granger did without even thinking. Harry's hand tightened suddenly, shocking me out of my reverie.

"No, Hermione," Harry murmured, his eyes flashing dangerously, "you were right. Draco is my mate and through some horrible twists of fate, I do have veela blood running through my veins. No matter what you would like or wish to believe I did choose Draco. He's mine, forever and by my own will."

"But Harry why him?!" Ron pleaded, "There are more than one veela out there! Why'd you have to go and pick him?"

"It's true," Harry smiled, looking over at me, "there are other veelas. I saw quite a few actually, many of them submissive, a few unclaimed but they didn't smell right. Their scent wasn't right, Draco's was and I had to have him. He's perfect in every way and I wouldn't change anything even if I could. I love him."

My thoughts froze, my heart skipped a beat and I felt my breathing fail. He couldn't have just said that, it's impossible for someone to ever love me. 


	5. Overture

****

5. Overture

Dinner went as well as it can when you go from the bastard of the school to the mate of your best and worst enemy. Adults, peers, comrades, all looking at us as if we are delusional. The word spread across the entire school in a single meal. Most don't know what to make of it but the Slytherins do. They're mad, actually they're pissed to, over boiling gonna kill someone in particularly painful way probably including a large heavy blunt instrument, kind of angry. It's a very dangerous kind of angry. 

Weasley spent most of the meal eyeing me suspiciously while Granger continually asked me and my mate different questions, as if we were science experiments to be observed and poked at. Harry remained calm and unresponsive, seemingly absorbed fully into eating. He never really made full eye contact with me, I suppose I'm just acting like a spoiled child and want my mates' attentions all to myself.

Stupid but, when there is only me and him then I can erase all doubts about myself, he seems to hold no prejudices to me or hatred. When we are alone I feel like a god and that seems so completely wrong, he's dominate and dominates, hurt their mates. It's been in every book I've read, every documented pair of mates, my father being no exception. I'm supposed to be the worshiper. Not him.

The meal ends and as everyone begins to leave, Dumbledore calls out to us, asking us to stay so that he can talk with us. Harry nods consent and we wait until all other have left the massive room, leaving me and my mate; and Dumbledore. Harry rises from the benches, I follow him more slowly. Dumbledore is smiling and as always his eyes contain the mischievous twinkle that makes you think he knows something you don't, a secret. 

Harry pauses before him a small smile on his face, "You knew didn't you?" Dumbledore calmly readjusts his spectacles, "I had my suspicions but I must say I wasn't expecting you Harry, my boy. You've grown over the summer?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled mischievously, perhaps he knew but one thing I knew about him was the fact that he never push one for an answer they weren't willing to give. 

"Maybe," Harry said, "I had a little divine intervention." 

Dumbledore calmly gazed at Harry, "I am not exactly sure how this union, came about and I certainly won't dissuade it but both you and mister Malfoy have your own separate dorms and house loyalties. You must be careful with this, relationship, it may cause a stirring of troubled waters already unstable." 

I waited for Dumbledore to pause and stepped forward, I knew he was right that we had to be careful but their was one thing he was wrong about, "Excuse me Professor," I said trying my hardest to be as polite as possible, "but I have no house or loyalties connected to the latter." 

Dumbledore blinked slightly, I felt a spark of compassion for the old man, he is, the wisest man that I can think of but even he couldn't dream up what had happened in actuality. He should know, I don't doubt that the word will get out anyway.

"Professor Dumleodre, sir," I start, "I think it is important you know I won't, can't leave him, and I have forsook my past ties and connections, I will stay in Harry's dorm and I will join all his classes, if that is at all possible."

Dumbledore, for a second, looked shocked but soon after it was replaced with that amused twinkle, I can almost believe that he also wears a mask like Harry does. 

Dumbledore nodded and smiled. "I believe it would do you, Mr. Malfoy, and Harry quiet well, if you were to, get to know each other better. It would, however, be best to retire, it being late and classes starting tomorrow." Although he seemed composed as he normally does I could almost feel his, I don't know, his aura was shaky, that makes no sense. I need sleep.

Harry turns to me once Dumbledore is gone, his eyes search mine, but for what I don't know. He tries to smile but it shatters. His face closes off, becomes blank and his eyes flat. He turns away from me and walks toward the door, I follow. What else can I do? His pace is brisk and I practically have to run to keep up with him. By the time he stops I have lost my sense of direction, I have no idea where I am. 

He stops in front of a large dusty old picture, it's occupant looking down upon Harry with a sad, reluctant smile. The plaque at the bottom of the picture reads a name but I know not its significance. A name plate covered in grime, rendering the name unreadable but I have this feeling that there is something incredibly important about it.

He speaks the password, I can't understand it at all, not because he speaks to softly, but because the tongue he speaks is parsel. The portrait nods and swings open, as I draw nearer, following Harry, I see a signature at the bottom of the portrait, Voldemort.

****

I ask him as I step in about the portrait, "Who is it? In the painting?" 

He doesn't turn around, "Tom Riddle, It's a portrait of Tom Riddle, A self portrait, before he became power-hungry. It was that portrait that inspired the name Voldemort and that's what he signed it as. You know, Draco," he pauses, swallowing slowly as if it pains him, "I won't force you to stay. You can leave if you want."

I feel shock coursing throughout my body and my heart aches as through its been pierced through with a knife. I am unfamiliar to this feeling. 

"What, what do you mean?" I manage to choke out. 

He continues to keep his back to me, eyes watching the fire before him, "I mean, Draco, that you can leave if you want, I'm not forcing you to stay with me any longer. I should have never claimed you."

"What?" I whisper. 

His fists clench to his sides, "I should have never chosen you, Draco. I should have known it would be impossible for you to love anyone, even your mate." He starts to walk off, towards a door to the right.

"Wait!, I cry out, Don't leave me, Harry, I beg you, don't leave me."

He turns back and for an instant I see his eyes, his soul breaking from within, "Why shouldn't I?" He growls. 

"Because," I stutter, "because…."

Why do I need him? A million reasons and none at all. I open my mouth, once more and simply release every thought and emotion bottled inside me

"…because you care, and because are the only one who does, maybe because you're perfect and kind, the way you radiate happiness and hide pain. When you look upon a person and struggle within yourself to judge them as an equal. The fact that you're perfect both inside and out, and that only when I'm around you can I feel good about myself, because, of these feelings growing within my chest and I don't know what they mean…"

He looks at me, sorrow covers his face and I know not why. 

"I wish that you had left." he whispers bitterly

The pain in my chest fluctuates, "What do you mean?" 

"I mean," he says, "that I wish you had left, Draco. I, I'm losing control, I won't be able…I might hurt you, I'm afraid I will hurt you."


	6. Finale

****

6. Finale 

He's losing control? That means it's true, it means that he will hurt me, he will be like a true veela dominate and the pain he will cause me will scar my body and my soul but I have made my choice. He gave me that chance, that opportunity to escape from him and I choose. 

He walks up to me, tears break free from his eyes as stands before and draw back his hand hits me. I cry out and fall onto him, he holds me to himself and I hear the most delicate of whispers in my ear, "I'm sorry." and he grabs my arm with such force I am sure it will break. He pulls me into an a joining room, the bed room. He flings me against the bed, against the unforgiving sharpened corner. I cry out as pain splits my side and I feel blood soak my robes. 

He forces me to the bed and tears away my clothing, I feel such fear welling in my chest, I am afraid. His touches are cruel, causing pain and horrid pleasure. His eyes are dark and cold like the facets of the uncaring jewel. He digs his nails into my flesh and drags them across my chest. I cry out and allow the tears to slip down my cheeks. I do not resist or try to push away, I simply hold on. His tounge, cleans my bloodied side and his hands hungrily travel upon naked flesh. 

He seems to have lost all humanity as he relieves himself of his own cloths and presses himself against me. Pain and fear, fear and pain. I shall learn them well until then they shall no longer surprise me. His mouth claims mine and he bites my lip, causing it to bleed and he suckles upon the cut. As he realeases my mouth he plunges, creuly within me and I cry out in pain. He is meciless in finding his own pleasure and I find myself wanting death in that final moment and right before he comes within me the world goes black, and I know no more.

I wake, feeling warm arms supporting my body. Holding me. I'm trembling uncontrollably, although I know not why. Harry holds me and for a moment I remember not and then my mind is filled with painful, terrible memories. I whimper, slightly and instant wish I hadn't, I tense waiting for him to hurt me once again but he does not, could not. 

He is holding me, and waiting for something. Before me a tub has finished filling, Harry steps carefully in, holding me still and somehow managing to carefully lower both him and myself into the water. He touches me gently, and asks me if I'm alright. His eyes suddenly brim with tears and he turns his head way from me in shame. He apologizes, and gently begins to clean me. Touching me like a fragile crystal. He is so kind but I know that below that beautiful sweet surface, he hold himself back. 

He lowers me back against him and holds me to his chest, wrapping his arms around me. I can feel his tears falling on my hair and his trembling. I take his hand and kiss it gently, intertwining my fingers with his. He rests his head against mine and we stay there until, I fall asleep. When I wake, I am once again in that accursed bed, where so much pain was caused to me. He is sleeping next to me, sorrow ingrains his features, his hand still links with mine. 

His eyes open slightly and he blinks in the morning light. I smile despite myself, I know now those growing feelings within me, those feelings of indescribable emotion, that cannot be put into words but are contained in one, love. 

He tries to smile but his conscious holds him down. "I'm so sorry Drac'" he murmurs. 

I shake my head, a smile still on my lips. "You have nothing to be sorry for. It's something engrained within you, but if you hold it back until, it bursts, like what happened last night. I won't live very long."

His eyes widen with fear and I squeeze his hand reassuringly. 

"Just don't hold back, Master, do what ever you wish with me. I am yours, always remember that." 

He smiles softly and pulls my chin forward to kiss me. Somehow, I find it surprising that even through it all, he still tastes like vanilla. 

We dress and make ready for the day. As we are about to walk out of the portrait, he grabs me and pushes me to a wall, not hard enough to cause pain but enough to take my breath away. He captures my lips and kisses me deeply, his hand pulling through my hair. His mouth moves around to tease my earlobe. As he pulls back away from me, he draws his wand and places it upon my neck, tracing the mark. He whispers something, too low for me to hear, and I feel a weight materialize around my neck. A collar, black, with a tag on it that reads, Draco M. Property of H. Potter.

"I think it's very becoming of you." he whispers into my ear and though my shock I follow him down to the dining hall.


	7. Rebirth

****

7. Rebirth 

Our steps are slow and calculated, I can feel his thoughts as if they are tangible entities, they smother me. I know that he wishes to never hurt me as he did before and is fighting his conscious because he is more deadly afraid of hurting me so cruelly again. 

I love the feelings that course through me, like acid and vinegar, they eat away at my insides. I love being needed, I love being owned, but unlike with Voldemort or father, Harry needs me for himself and only himself not to fulfill some sadistic plan of world domination. 

We've stopped outside the dining hall, in front of the towering doors, I can see his friends approaching us, coming from the Gryfindor wing. Harry was saying something, I did not hear, I can see the anger in his eyes and almost feel his arm tensing. I open myself to him in ever way, he needs to learn, to relearn, not to hold back. At least for me but perhaps it would be well of him to learn to release his anger towards others as well. 

His eyes narrow and an almost guttural sound issues from his throat. He grabs my arm and squeezes it painful, his hand goes back and I prepare myself mentally for the coming blow. It stings, his hand across my cheek, with demon like furry, it stings. He didn't hold back, I feel my head snap back and if his hand had not held my arm I would have fallen to the floor. 

His friends gasp, along with those in the dining hall, they saw everything. They should be shocked, if I was in there position I would have been shocked too, Harry Potter, never acts as such. Harry Potter is kind and good, and he should be for he's the savior of the wizarding world but neither are they infused with cursed veela DNA, no, they know nothing.

"Listen to me when I am talking to you, understand?" he hisses, regardless it carries throughout the silent hall. Bracing my feet I gather my strength enough to support my own body, "Yes, Master." I murmur. He smiles and pulls me to his chest, wrapping his arms around me, "Good." He mutters into my hair, kissing the top of my head gently, like a parent would a child.

His friends run over, they stand beside my mate, eyes still wide with shock. "Harry, you just, what happened?" Granger said, reaching to put a hand on Harry's arm. 

I felt myself bristle and a growl escaped my throat, "Don't touch him," I snarled, watching her hand pull back as if she had been bitten. 

Harry's grip around me tightened painfully and I cried out softly, a whimper escaping my lips. "Don't, Draco. They, are, my friends. You will respect their privileges as such." Harry said, watching my eyes as he slowly loosened his painful grip on me. 

"Yes," I gasp, stepping back as his arms release me.

His friends. I turn to face them, watching them critically. Weasley tenses like a wary cat and Granger looks curious as usual. I fight down my customary snide remarks and bite my tongue to fight down the trademark smirk. Instead, I take a deep breath and slowly, very stiffly, bow to them. As a finish I glance over towards my mate, a wave of relief washes over me as I see the pleased look on his face. A glance back at my mates friends show Weasley looking like a fish out of water and even Granger looking a little shocked.  
Harry grabs my hand and proceeds to lead me the Gryfindor table. He sits down and I followed his example, Granger and Weasley not far behind. The entire hall fill with voices, gossiping about what they had just seen but it doesn't matter. As long as I have Harry everything is perfect, and I could die happy if I didn't know that it would hurt him so much. I slowly pick through my food, occasionally serving various items to Harry. His friends watch him.

"How do you know what he wants?" Hermione asks, "You may be his mate but, you hardly know him, how do you know exactly what foods he wants?" I look up at her and smile, or rather smirk, I couldn't keep it down, Harry glances over and a small smile playing his lips. It's rather interesting, we both hold the grandest secret in the world, each other.

He nods slightly and I turn back towards Gran-no-Hermione. "Magic?" I murmur sarcastically. 

Ron rolls his eyes and Hermione blinks furiously. 

I laugh lightly, "No, sorry…I know because I watch him. When he wants something he looks at it briefly, all you have to do is watch him." 

They ask no more questions which was a very good thing considering I felt completely drained of courtesy. Breakfast ended quite without incident although after the little show before it left little that could compete. As we leave for our first classes I notice out of the corner of my eye, Dumbledore, winking at us, in that horrible humorous way that makes you think he knows your every secret and finds it a grand joke. I wouldn't be surprised if it was true.

First class of the day, double potions. I haven't seen Snape since the night before. I feel a slight wince of guilt in the knowledge that he probably hates me now, as he hates Harry. He used to be one of the only ones who truly knew what it was like to be surrounded by death eaters, death and plans of conquest. Guilt, its pain is refreshing. 

As we enter the class room, he bursts through the door, slamming it behind him in his usual melodrama. By now most have gotten used to it. Neville still flinches but than again he flinches at almost everything. Snape starts giving out instructions immediately for some powerful difficult potion in that impossible fashion of his, always saying the instructions much too rapidly for proper notes. He then sorts us into partners, usually the most incompatible pairs he can manage. He is completely bent on destroying all the slackers which for him is eighty percent of the class, including Slytherins. 

Snape pauses for a moment when he comes to my name, his eyes locking onto Harry. Harry meets his gaze with complete malice. Grimacing, Snape continues to read off pairs. Harry and I together, probably an intervention of Dumbledore's, I wouldn't doubt. Harry begins to sort our ingredients and randomly hand them to me, I suppose not randomly. It took me a second to realize that he was handing me half the ingredients to mix into the pot already sorted into the time deviations from each other that they needed to be mixed. Harry is not as incompetent as I previously thought but perhaps his partners were, of course guilt again. Before I was the main partner of Harry and I spent half the time trying to get him to make a mistake. My fault.

I slowly methodically begin preparing the ingredients, everything went perfectly for a while but I knew it couldn't last. Harry became anxious and irritated at my lack of speed although it wasn't required. I finished preparations and found Harry waiting for the last ingredient, mine. 

"Draco," He murmurs, "give me your hand." 

I did as he said, slowly giving to him my left hand nearest to him, fully aware to the fact that it would be very stupid to give him my dominate hand. 

He lays my hand palm down upon the table, turning around to pick up his scalpel which he had used to dissect the essential ingredient from the otherwise useless Goreget eye. He carefully wipes it upon his robe and I, attempt to suppressed my fear. It is then that Snape takes that precise moment to step up alongside our caldron, to check our results. 

Harry looks up at him and smiles slightly, "May we go to the hospital wing, Professor Snape?" 

Snape glares at us for a moment, "I do not see anything the matter that would require aid, Mr. Potter." 

Harry's smile disappears and is replaced with a sickly frown, "Not yet." 

He looks over at me and at the same instant imbeds the scalpel into my hand. I suppress the scream rising in my throat, swallow the groan of agony. A whimper did manage to creep out along with a solitary tear sliding down my cheek as Harry ripped the scalpel out again. He clutchs my hand with his own, never fully taking his eyes off Snape, who's face is contorted into a mask of shock and rage. 

I know that Harry is provoking him, I know he can't win, at least not in Harry's eyes. If Harry thinks anything like my father or most of the veela's I have met, only death will satisfy him, or sometimes, if the veela in question is in a good mood, exstreme physical mutilation or permanently debilitating punishments. Veela's aren't nice creatures.

"Please allow us to go to the hospital wing." I breath through gritted teeth, "You see I'm in a lot of pain and bleeding all over your floor." 

Snape blinks, as if just now remembering where he is, he can't seem to gain his tongue but instead gives a stern nod. And we leave. 


	8. Confusion and Fear

****

8. Confusion and Fear 

We leave the dungeons behind us and I follow Harry. Despair threatens to overwhelm me. I feel as if I am once again under the abusive control of my father. I feel like I'm drowning. Harry stops and I almost run into him, fear coursing through me at the thought, his head is bowed and I can't see his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Draco. Oh God, I'm sorry!" He turns to me, tears creating rivulets upon his beautiful face, anguish and sorrow. I remember why he is my god. He takes my hand, now bleeding freely upon the stoned cobbles, and cups it with his own. He blows upon the wound, gently, bringing it close to his face. I hold my breath as he carefully licks the wound clean, kissing it and scaring me more with his tenderness than his brutality. I watch in fascination as he steps back slightly, still holding my hand, and watching as the wound began to close all on its own, until not a mark is left to signify its ever happening.

Harry looks at me, emotions swimming in his eyes but prevailing is fear. He's scared of himself and his actions, he's scared to hurt me or anyone else. 

"I don't want to do this anymore, Draco." Harry whispers.

My breath catches in my throat and my chest constricts painfully. Is he, he isn't going to, leave me? After I've already accepted him and bonded my soul and body to his? He can't. He can't. I won't let him. I, I…

"I won't hurt you anymore. I don't care if it is in my nature. I never want to hurt you again."

"Harry, don't. You just go against your instincts, I…"

"I don't care what I can or can't do because I, will, do it, or I will die trying."

"Or, kill me trying." I whisper mutely.

His face flinches as if struck.

"I'm sorry." I say, casting my eyes to the ground.

"No," Harry voice is soft, "It's true. I should have never claimed you, to cause so much pain to you."

"For the both of us."

"No, I've only hurt you….only you…"

The sorrow and pain upon his face is more than I can handle. I never knew someone could affect me so deeply. He hurts me even with his own pain, and it's true. He has only hurt me, but, I've come to find that, I really don't mind all that much. I just want him to be happy.

"Stay with me, promise you'll stay with me."

"I can't do that."

"You already have, Harry." I point to the mark upon my neck.

"Then I….I just won't hurt you."

"You can't"

"I will."

We quiet as McGonagall suddenly rounds the corner. She startles upon seeing us but continues walking until she stands before us, actually, she stands in front of me. 

"Mister Malfoy, your father is here to see you."

I feel the blood leave my face and all the air drain from my lungs, fighting panic.

McGonagall looks surprised at this but continues speaking, "He says its most urgent. I came to escort you. Apparently your father was under the idea that you would need persuasion to attend to him."

"Oh, god, no…" I can't stop it from escaping my throat. I start to shake, tremble. If I don't calm down, I could go into….never mind….

Harry steps up behind me, placing his open hand upon my back as he talks with McGonagall. I soon lost track of the conversation as I began to slowly relax. His hand somehow focusing all of my concentration to that point. Then McGonagall is gone, walking away, and Harry's hand slips from my back as he slips around me and stands before me. He has a look in his eyes that seems to say 'don't worry'. He takes my hand and kisses my fingertips as if he has no greater honor than to do so. I smile and he smiles back as his hands go up to cup my face. His lips brush mine so softly I can barely feel them but he comes back and slowly devourers me until I feel as I had on the train after he had claimed me. No doubts, a veela must have trust for its mate, even when he causes you pain.

We walk down those cold stone hallways with no urgency in our steps. Harry seeks to reassure me as I go to confront my father but I wish for nothing more than to run away. You must understand, I respect my father but I respect him out a great fear for him. He is not a man you anger, nor even displease. The veela blood runs strong in him and he is allured by its natural brutality. I know that my mother was once safe and happy from father, because I was around. When I turned five he started hurting me, not in a sexual nature, just, pain. He was and is especially fond of the whip. His own personal one is made of dragon scales and its tip barbed with points of pure silver.

When I started at Hogwarts, mother got hurt again. Her health is failing and she could die soon. The only help I can offer her is to come home as often as possible to take the brunt of it to my own flesh. I have to wonder why Harry has yet to ask me of the innumerable scars scattered across my back. Perhaps he knows or knows yet better not to ask, lest open a wound afresh in my heart. Pain of my mothers love which she never gives conflicting with a pain of pride given to me by my father. 

I can hope, in the depths of my heart, perhaps deluding myself, that maybe, if I am good, there might be a happily ever after. Or maybe I am simply another villain or unfortunate, doomed by fate and misfortune to a life of torment and suffering. Not even a death of mercy but a life of guilt. I can dream, strange, that the one person always in that dream is, Harry. 


	9. Father

****

9. Father

Our steps echo hollowly as we slip through the stone corridors, every step tempting my fate. Again I am left with a choice, I can run as I could have from Harry, or I can face what has been laid before. Once again I choose to trust in my instincts and the path fate has chosen for me. As long as I have Harry. 

But before, when Harry licked that wound he himself inflicted, and it healed. I have never thought such a thing possible. I have read every book there is about veela genealogy, their habits and abilities that differ from ordinary humans. Always, every book I have read, has described the brutality of the race, stemming from the dominate side but nothing about what Harry has put forth before me. The power to heal, does it only work with Harry, or maybe only with wounds inflicted by the dominate veela to the submissive? Why did he heal me? And most importantly, can it be defeated? Can any normal mortal defeat the cruelty inlaid from the dominate veela blood?

"We're here." Harry says softly.

He's trying to look nonchalant but he's scented my father and more than likely it smells of the irremovable scent of my spilled blood. He's tense and his blood runs like arctic fire I can feel it. He's preparing himself to face my father and try not to kill him.

He looks down at me, his eyes swimming with a million emotions all mixing into a tangle to thick to decipher. Questions also and fear, he's afraid. Afraid of what? I reached out and gently brushed his arm, taking in an assault of livid thoughts, he's afraid…to loose, me. 

I reach out and tap upon the door, at the same time with my other hand, opening the creaking doorway. The door opens, revealing a small sitting room with lavish enough furnishings. A rug, couch two sitting chairs, a mediums sized fireplace, cheerfully blazing, and my father sitting before it. He glances over, rising in his fluid grace to come greet me, he stiffens upon seeing Harry. 

I feel the hair rise on the back of neck rise as if I can feel both Harry and my father bristling at each other, sizing each other up. I almost expect them to hiss at each other but they simply stand, watching each other. The room permeates with the silence, like a tangible odor that won't go away. I try to relax but that would be almost impossible given the circumstances. A smile twitches onto my fathers face, disbelief replaced with understanding, "Mr. Potter, what a, pleasant, surprise. What do I give the honor of your visit, especially when I requested only my sons presence?"

Harry watches my father, blinking slowly before a smile spurs his mouth, "Me? I'm just here as a spectator." 

My Father's eye twitches almost imperceptibly, the first indication of his anger, I tense imperceptibly, fighting the urge to step away.

"My son and I have some, family matters to discus, if you wouldn't mind removing yourself, Mr. Potter." his voice clenched with restraint. 

"No, I'll stay, unless Draco wishes me to leave."

My father's attentions instantly switch from Harry to me, his eyes demanding my obedience. Times before, when I was young, I once said no to those eyes. Times before, when I was stupid and my response almost got me killed at my fathers hands. Since that time I've always said yes but now, no matter how much obedience those eyes command, its not my will to give to him. My obedience lies intertwined deeply within the soul of Harry Potter and I cannot give what has already been entrusted to someone else. Someone who may hurt me but at the same time feels guilt and pain for his actions and never wants to hurt me again. My father is a very physically strong person but his heart is weak. He never tries to restrain the violent strains bred within him, Harry has always been someone better, stronger, powerful in every way, that's why everyone loves and adores him, including me.

Love, it's a funny word, before I met Harry it was just that, a word. Then all these emotions sprang up in me, when I first met Harry those feelings were anger, jealousy and a need but even then they were feelings, no one made me feel the way Harry did. It was like a dash of cold water on the face when I met face to face with him around others it seemed as though I walked through a tangible static. Without Harry, I have trouble feeling at all, I can just drift off and leave my body to care for itself, on autopilot. I never wish to leave Harry again.

"Harry will stay." I breath, lifting my chin to look my father in the eye, lingering over his brief expression of anger and outrage. 

Harry brushes my arm casually but I know it was his way of encouraging me, coagulating me in my private victory. 

"Let us sit Father, so that we may discuss your urgent business." I say, walking over the armchair closest to the door and slipping down into the stiff musty cushion.

My father sits down stiffly, eyes trailing after Harry who has declined to sit but leans comfortably on the back of my chair.

My father sniffs slightly and sends Harry a questioning look, "I had no idea that you had a fondness for veela's, Potter."

"What ever do you mean, Mr. Malfoy?" Harry says ignorantly, his voice drifting over my head, fully willing to play my father's game. 

"Well, you've been seeing a veela haven't you?" He asks strait forward.

"Yes," Harry purrs, "I'm quite fond of veela's but however did you know?" Harry asks back, mock confusion in his voice.

"I can smell it on you, I'm half veela myself." My father draws away the question.

"Really! I had no idea." Harry's voice came back, overly theatrical.

"And I had no idea you were the weakling in the relationship. Did you know that your veela is a dominate?"

I understand now. He thinks Harry's scent is picked up off of some other veela dominate. 

"Umm, father, you wished to speak of something to me." I venture, trying to distract the conversation from its current course.

"Son, have you been seeing someone? Some one of our nature, perhaps stronger?" 

I blink then grasp the concept of the question, blunt but evasive, "Father, Harry knows both about my being veela…and submissive." I turn my gaze to the fire.

My fathers shock is like a tangible entity, "You told Him?! You know what could happen, you fool! No one outside the family is supposed to know!" His anger, it's horrible.

I refuse to look at him, to meet his eyes.

"You've been claimed haven't you? Haven't you you bastard!" He rages, standing up, his hands clench tightly in fists, "I told you never to tell anyone, go near another veela, and what do you do? Go and get yourself claimed!" 

He starts forward but I feel the weight on the back of the chair shift and suddenly my fathers advance stops and he steps back slightly, his rage cooling. I can almost visualize Harry's eyes watching my father's daring him to touch me.

"It's unfair of you to become angry with Draco, Mr. Malfoy. You see," Harry's arms came down and circling protectively around my neck, "I really didn't give Draco much of a choice in the matter." 

My father's eyes open wide, shock crossing his face in the most blatant show of emotion I've ever seen on his face, I mean besides anger. Then the expression is transformed into amusement.

"You, Potter? You are saying you claimed my son and you expect me to believe you? I'm not stupid, I know very well you are not of the veela blood."

I feel Harry's breath, sift through my hair, his arms around my neck, tighten slightly but not painfully, I hear hiss, softly. Harry's muscles bunch and his every nerve is on end, I scent his scent, stronger than before, a challenge upon the air.

"I know what I am, Mr. Malfoy, and it is no care of mine whether you believe me or not but, Draco's mine now." He hissed the last part, holding me tightly against his arms. 

"Impossible," father whispers, "Draco?" he questions softly, dangerously. 

I smile, sighing and leaning back against Harry's arms, my hands reaching up and gripping Harry's forearms, "Goodbye, Father."

My father's eyes loose their light, he falls back, slumping down in the couch once again, "No…" he murmers, "Draco, do you think I might speak with you, alone, just one last time." He's almost pleading.

I feel the hair on the back of my neck once again stand on end but that look in my Father's eyes, to speak with him just once more, surly it can't hurt can it? I glance up at Harry standing over me, his eyes question me, I nod silently. Harry's eyebrows rise, then knit in worry. As he releases me from his arms and his hands come up touching upon the mark that sealed us together, and tracing up my neck and cheek, slipping through my hair. As he leaves I can't repress the feeling that I should have trusted my feelings, that Harry should have stayed. I should have trusted my feelings.

I close the door behind me, wondering if Draco will be alright. I mean it is the last time he may see his father. I'm not forcing him to stay away from his father, am I? Draco doesn't wish to be wish him any more. There was fear in Draco, as soon he even heard his father wanted to see him I could scent fear on him. Those scars on his back, the darkness of his mind, these are the result of Lucius. This I know but I can't help feeling some misgivings about this.

The door opens slowly, Draco's slim form emerging from the interior, but…something feels wrong. Draco's mind and feelings are closed off. He glances at me, a smirk creeping onto his face, one I haven't seen since before I claimed Draco.

"What are you looking at, Potter?" He snipped and stalked off, heading down the hallway and away from me. 

What the fuck did that bastard do to my Draco!? I turn and fling the door back open, smashing it brutally back against the wall


	10. Rose Blood

****

10. Rose Blood

"What the hell did you do to him, Lucius!" I scream. Every fiber of my being has been violated with Lucius Malfoy's tainted touch upon my mate. My vision seems to cloud with red and the overwhelming need to shed blood boils through my system. I can't fight it down this time, Lucius's blood will be spilled this night. Perhaps if Lucius cannot give me an answer I like, to my questions about Draco, heads will not only roll, that may be all they ever find of the bastard.

Lucius stands there, staring at the fire, a triumphant mask placed upon his disgusting face.

"Answer me, Lucius, now." My voice found a soft deadly calm, in a way it had never before attained; I am on the killing edge this night. Not since…not since I hurt Draco have I felt this way. It's intoxicating. 

He turns, a smug smirk twisted on his lips, he raises a glass of wine in mock salute.

Lucius watches me, calculating his words, evaluating the possible effect they may have on me, "I do not know, Mr. Potter, how you concocted such a plan as this, or how you captured my son in your schemes but it's over now." He laughs as if he with friends, a good natured, wholesome laugh. It's purity lies within its falsity. "but there is one thing I do know and that is, that you're no veela. You act slightly like one and even have the scent but I'm not a fool, Potter, your parents were clean of the taint of the veela."

I watch him, stepping forward in measured paces, my hands lax and my face smooth of all emotions. I can scent him even stronger now, his scent is strong but his strength weak. His power lies in the fear other have of him, like Draco. I stand before him, a mere foot separating us, a mere foot keeping me from ripping his throat out. 

"Lucius," I purr, silently calling a glittering jeweled knife to my hand, one I never knew existed much less that I could call it with but will alone, "I have told you this once before, I know what I am, it matters naught to me whether you choose to believe me. But…Draco is mine." The knife slid up underneath his chin in a single fluid movement, nicking the flesh and causing the flesh to weep tears of scarlet.

His eyes grow wide, watching me with fascination and a touch of fear but relief as well, as if he know something I do not.

"Potter, if I didn't know you I might be frightened but I think, unless my sources have been wrong, that you tend to only attack with intentions to hurt or kill when you yourself are first attacked. You won't kill me." He said that last phrase with such certainty, such confidence.

My blood boils, I can barely hold onto my sanity or even my humanity but no shred of humanity contained in me includes sparing this scum's life. A grin suffices my face and I press the blade more roughly against his tearing flesh causing it to bring forth waterfalls of life blood.

Lucius gurgles slightly in shock, I can feel the thin layer of flesh that separates him from death at my hand. His breath coming more harshly as the knife chokes his trachea. 

"Really, Lucius?" I snarl, a horrid grin creeping on my face, "Do you think that now, Lucius?"

His eyes stare of a sort of fascinated terror, a slight gurgle escaping his throat as he restrains from swallowing.

I lick my lips, "Veela or not, not or veela. I smell like one, I think like one, act like one, even look like one. Draco told me I taste of vanilla, is that what a veela tastes like as well, Lucius?" I futilely attempt to curbed my blood lust, watching the alarm in his eyes, "I am, what I am made to be. _Veluiciuos Drucounious_, it's a powerful potion. It infuses the drinker of the potion with the DNA of a veela, surly it sounds familiar considering your debatable knowledge of the dark arts, eh Scemo?" the name left my mouth before I knew what I had said. What it means I know not.

At my saying 'Scemo' Lucius jerked back violently, as if stung. He clutched his throat, now out of knife's harm. Staring at me with wide eyes, eyes filled with anger.

"You, you dare…" he rasps, his voice breaking, blood spilling from under his hand, "you dare call me weak-minded, like you are ruling male?! I **have **heard of _Veluiciuos Drucounious, _no one has ever survived it! I suppose you would, having such a difficult time dieing," he spat, "and **now** you presume you are ruling male, boy child!?"

A wave of anger began to pulse from him, defiance, anger, power. Pressing my mind to concede to him as the more powerful male. I feel myself as if I am not, my instincts rear and force through his, now the attack is of wills. I shatter his inner mental barrier in a single blow, I hold myself above his very essence, like that of a mental knife to the throat but if I choose to shatter his mind he will be haunted and lost in a world of madness for all of his remaining existence. 

"I am Cane, I am the ruling male. Concede to me, Scemo, and I will leave your mind intact."

He looks at me, shock and defeat, two emotions that never were meant to share a place on Lucius Malfoy's face.

"Concede." I demand, piercing his mind with the order. 

He falls to his knees, robes billowing out from his frame, he spreads his hands to me, acknowledging my superiority. I take my hold in his mind and plant a chain from myself there in his mind.

I smile, "Now no matter what you do or say, I will know. I have you Scemo, you are of my pack and you will by loyal to me or I will cause you such pain you can't imagine, or maybe you can." I jerk violently on the mental leash and hold it taunt, before me Lucius lays on the ground writhing in some sort of incompressible agony. 

He clutches his head, ripping his finger nails through the delicate scalp causing streams of blood to run off his head. He acts as if the action can tear the very pain that radiates from his head down throughout the rest of his body. His screams rend his brittle, injured vocal cords and his voice breaks and screams drift to silent air. I release him and reaching down, haul his trembling body up before my face. He holds his hands over his face, fingers stained with his own blood, skin under his fingernails, he shields his face from me.

"I can hear any thing you say, I can see anything you see, if I choose, I will know if you betray me and nothing can block me from you. Understand me, Scemo, if you betray me, I will torture your body to its breaking point and immerse your mind in a world of horrors and nightmares. Then we will try again, I will give you only that one warning and then I will kill you, **Scemo**."

Lucius gasps and shies away from me, "Yes, Cane, Master of the Pack, I obey." He rasps painfully.

"Good." I smile and drop the cowering shape to the floor, "Never," I say as I walk away from Lucius, steps away from the door knob, "touch my mate again."

A soft sob comes from behind me as I leave the room and close the door behind me. I have to find Draco.


	11. Trust

****

11. 

Trust

What did I just do? What the hell was that? I read once…. But that's impossible…. can't be. I stroll down the silent halls still filled with the workings of quiet students hard at work. The warmth of the atmosphere, the chill of the wind. I swear this bloody castle never warms. I need to find Draco. Where would he have gone though? Before I claimed him we were just enemies, enemies don't exactly go out of their ways to figure out what the other likes to do, go, hide. 

"Fuck it all." I mutter and begin the slow assent up the stairs to the library. I slip into the archaic old room, my nose assaulted by the scent of crumbling, molding bits of paper strapped together with bits of leather. Growling under my breath I skim over the faded spines, wandering from shelf to shelf, blatantly aware that my growling was becoming more obscene and audible as I went. I want my bloody Draco now! Stop god damn you, there are things we need to find now. Great now I'm talking to myself.

I pause at a book, the one; I recognize it from the 'orphanage', the spine reading _Veela's: The Study_. Flipping it open to the table of contents I let my eyes wander down slipping over the familiar chapter headings. _Myths and Facts, Powers, Mating_…blah, blah, blah…ah here we go, page eighty three, _Early Evolution. _I open to the page and skim through pausing at the third paragraph. 

__

Through magical and genetic tracing it is believed that the veela evolved from that of the broad family of Magious Chimeric the family that also includes the like of the werewolves, elves, certain true strains of vampires, the weaker dragon types, the chimeras that went into extinction long ago, and the unicorn among others. Some research has even lead to a theory that veela evolved from a strain of werewolf and unicorn mix but, although the genetics support theory, it has not yet been hypothesized how a werewolf and unicorn would ev…

I snarled slightly and skipped ahead

Although not much is known about the true behavior of veela's in their early evolution there has been evidence presented that suggests that veela's once traveled in groups similar to the packs. Early recordings that were deciphered mentioned that of a pack leader of sorts, for example the alpha male in a pack of wolves. Although the veela evolved much in the same way that the human did, the pack culture seemed to play an important role in early evolution adding to the success of the race. By hunting in a pack and following a single leader the veelas' singularly unique weakness in difficult reproduction allowed the veela as a species to avoid extinction.

The veela leader was commonly the strongest of the pack although some instances show that leader could allow take position of power by extreme cunning and trickery. As with the choosing of a mate, veela leaders could be either men or women and often times because women held the veela touch they would become the pack leaders. Although in rare instances it was recorded that strong males of the few males also gifted with the touch. 

_Documentation has found that shows the early veela's language had heavy outside influence. Italian was common and the leader of a pack was often called, 'Cane' which translates to lead dog. The underlings or those unflavored by the Cane were often called Scemo, basically, weak minded. The term weak minded is thought to be connected to the test of leadership in which the current Cane tests minds with the opposing veela. Very little is recorded on the test or the possible powers involved. The answers are lost for now as the veela has evolved from the need of neither packs or tests._

I shake my head, unless of course you are lucky enough to have had a potion forced down your throat that turns you into a veela, fucking the idea that they've evolved beyond the need…then again. The ability to dominate another's mind, I wonder, does it work only on veela's or possibly a wider range of humanoid species? I return the book to the shelf and left the library. There I proceed to wander the halls until the classes change and I slip out the front door into the unforgiving autumn air.

I glance around, breathing in the scent of death on the wind that comes with the coming of each fall. Autumn is my favorite time of year, it represents the coming death of the land and eternal sleep, then the world is born anew again but I don't care too much for that part. The corner of my eye catches hold of something near the lake. I turn and look my eyes locking onto a huddled form standing near the lake, silvery blond hair tousled by the wind. 

The water laps slowly, licking the shores with a tired ease. I don't know why I'm here but the cold air helps clear some of the pain. That stupid pain that has been stabbing at my skull ever since I saw my father, funny thing, I can't remember why my father saw me or what we talked about or anything. I think back and I remember boarding the train for school and suddenly I'm here and the pain. Not only that but there's a gap in me, right between my ribs where my heart should be. 

It's like I'm missing something. The ache between my ribs the pain in my heart this unidentifiable longing. I feel as if I've lost something very dear to me, something I'll never be able to replace. It feels like, when I've read books, sappy love stories, when love is lost and it feels like a description of that only it hurts so much more than that of a story lost of true love or the piercing pain in my head. 

My revere is broken as arms curl around me, a scent I know, a scent I suddenly hunger for. The owner of the arms leans forward, propping his head on my shoulder, holding me even more tightly. Potter? I can't stop my colliding emotions, hate, anger and jealousy from one side, the side I know. Then there is respect, fear and…love? Those feelings they come from the ache in my chest, they scream something powerful inside, something I would have to be stupid to ignore.

"…Harry?" I ask, the name is thick in my mouth but utterly too familiar and comfortable.

I can see him smile out of the corner of my eye.

"Shhh, Dragon…. Open your mind to me. Trust what you do not know…trust this." He reaches up, sliding his hand up to cover my heart and the ache. 

I do trust that pain, the ache that tells me to listen, to obey and do anything he wants; anything to make him happy, to make him smile. The pain that lessens just by his nearness and touch. 

I trust and an…almost like a soft warmth invades my mind, how to describe such a thing that has no feeling to describe a flavor of vanilla in my mind. I can feel him, touching my mind and memories, his searches gentle as he roves, his mental touch caresses and sends chills down my spine. I feel myself grow tight and my breath quickens without my permission. 

This isn't right, the rational part of my mind screams, the one that knows, whose memories aren't clouded. This is Harry Potter, the enemy, the boy wonder; my life goal is to destroy his and this way I feel is wrong…and right, absolutely perfect. 

Suddenly the feeling the vanilla, pauses and brushes against something in my mind, as he brushes it pain shoots through my skull and down every nerve in my body. My legs give out, Harry is there though, some part of me says he will be forever, and he braces upon my weight and holds me up. Mentally he prowls the area around the barrier, careful not to touch it and I am grateful for that. 

It seems like forever and a half before he stops prowling and his external body stiffens, he smiles, "I know now, I can relieve your mind of the memory block without hurting you at all, my Dragon." He laughs lightly, "It's hard to believe that Lucius came up with such a complicated memory charm. This is how it's going to work, Draco. The only way I can destroy the successfully break the spell without hurting you is to rapidly drain off all the magical and physical energies from the spell and shatter it simultaneously." His voice grew somber, "I won't let you without your memories, Dragon, but I don't want to hurt you and I've never done this before…I'm going to leave this decision to you. Live in ignorance, pain and denial or trust me for a seconds gamble with the stakes being our lives. If I screw up then I'll probably die in the spells backlash. Your decision…" His voice, somber, clouded with fear and slightly choked. Draco couldn't see Harry's face but he could see it so clearly in his minds eye.

"I trust, not in you, I trust in this." I touch the spot above my heart, "and because of that, yes. Do it." 


	12. 

****

12.

His grip tightens slowly, choking off my lungs, pressing painfully into my ribs. I exhale the last breath left in me, to relieve the pressure and assuage the new mounting pain but Harry simply tightens his grip and it begins to burn. Panic wells in me as my natural instincts fight the threat of death. The pain radiating from my chest, my lungs, my entire body. I can't feel and my sight is dimming, swimming slightly before my eyes.

Inside, something else, feeds off my mind. It drains all the energies contained in my body. I can no longer move and my body has ceased struggle, my eyes flicker closed. Limp, my body is limp. I can feel death approaching and tears form in the eyes now useless. My mind rages', screaming that it is my own fault that I allowed this to happen, that I killed myself. 

But, there is something else, cradling me, holding me safe within myself. This is safe, an entity dark and powerful but my protector and mine only. He will save me from myself and from him as well. I am safe with him. He turns to me, his eyes luminescent spheres of liquid power and emotion. He knows my fears and although he cannot speak to me or hold me right now, his eyes cry with me and they promise to keep me safe. I trust him.

My mind explodes and my mind is set free everything comes rushing back and I embrace the veela of me and the memories. The protector was Harry and he gave me back the most important thing I have ever possessed, Harry. I feel my energy slowly begin to refill me, Harry carefully channeling it back into my body. When I can finally stand on my own I do so and turn looking at him, his face pale and drawn he trembles slightly in the passing wind. 

I step forward to him, curling my arms around his waist slowly, drawing him against me and there I bury my head in his chest, choking back tears. His arms encircle me, their grip weak and light.

"Don't cry, Dragon." He whispers into the wind.

"I almost lost you, I almost lost the only important thing in my life. I can cry if I want to." His shirt muffles my reply.

His grip tightens on me, "Do you mean that?"

I turn my head, resting my ear to his chest and listening to the slow rhythm of his heart, "If you are referring to my right to cry then, yes. If you are referring to the fact that you are the most important thing in my life then, yes again." I turn and look up at him, meeting his eyes with my own, searching them, "I love you and I never want to lose you."

Harry's eyes clear as he studies my own, "You mean it." as I watch his own eyes fill with crystalline liquid slipping down his cheeks, "You really mean it this time."

I nod and rise my lips to his, kissing his tenderly, trying desperately to tell him everything in my heart and he kisses me back out tears mingling in the kiss and flavor with the taste of the sea.

"Come," I say as I break away, "Let's go inside, it's cold out here."

"Only," He takes my hand in his and intertwines our fingers, "if you'll say it again."

"I love you, Harry Potter, forever and ever." 

We turn and walking arm in arm, return to the castle.

**The End (?)**

I just don't know, is this the end of our beautiful veela's story? The thing is I can't think of a plot so if you wish for this story to continue please review and feel free to include plot ideas. I really do enjoy writing this story but without a substantial plot the poor thing will go down in flamers and I won't do that. Please review and remember that tigger loves you.


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